


Ghosts Come A-Calling

by Venbeth



Category: Justified
Genre: Bisexual Male Character, M/M, Trans Character, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:27:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27248761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Venbeth/pseuds/Venbeth
Summary: Justified but what if Raylan was trans
Relationships: Ava Crowder/Raylan Givens, Boyd Crowder/Raylan Givens
Comments: 33
Kudos: 32





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Dream Of Leaving Alive](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9649568) by [badwips](https://archiveofourown.org/users/badwips/pseuds/badwips). 



> I started this in August but I'd been thinking about it since June when I read badwips's story Dream Of Leaving Alive and wondered about what Justified would have been like if Raylan was trans. Who would know? Who would support him? How would that change the storyline?  
> Expect this story to vaguely follow the outline of Justified, though most likely only season one and maybe two.  
> Title from Fire by Barns Courtney

Dan sighed and leant on the door of his car. “I’m gonna reassign you. They need manpower in the Eastern District of Kentucky. I talked to the chief of the district, Art Mullen. Says you guys taught firearms together at Glynco.”

Horror ran through Raylan’s veins. “No, no, Dan. I _grew up_ in Kentucky. I don’t wanna go _back_.”

“Well then we have a problem because you don’t wanna go back to Kentucky, and you cannot, under any circumstances, stay here.” With that, Dan slid into his car and took off, leaving Raylan staring at an empty parking space, shock thrumming through his entire being. He couldn’t think, he couldn’t plan, couldn’t move. All he was aware of was the panic. He couldn’t go back to Kentucky. Back to Harlan. Back to _Arlo_. Fuck. Arlo.

But before Raylan knew it, he was on a plane and on his way to Lexington.

Raylan walked into the Marshal office and was swept up into a friendly handshake with Art Mullen.

“You look the same as you did in Glynco,” Art jested. “Same coat, same boots.”

Raylan smiled, “The boots are fairly new.”

“Don’t tell me that hat is?”

“No, the hat’s old.” Twenty years old in fact. First thing Raylan bought when he left Harlan. Made him feel, just a little bit, like the heroes in the Westerns he watched as a kid.

“Heard about you and Winona.” Art eyed Raylan curiously, but he didn’t rise to the bait. “She works here, in the courthouse.”

Art finished packing up for the evening and was pulling on his coat when he dropped the second bombshell of the evening.

“ – thought you might know him? Boyd Crowder?” Now _that_ made Raylan start. Hadn’t heard that name in a long while. Tried to forget about it as a matter of fact. “You do know him?”

“Yeah I know him. Boyd and I dug coal together when we were 19.” _Boyd and I ran away together when we were 19_ , Raylan didn’t say. _Boyd and I were best friends. Boyd and I were going to get married. Boyd was the only person to believe in me and that meant the world._ “We weren’t what you’d call buddies, but you work a deep mine with a man, you look out for each other.”

Art slid across the case file. “He change much?”

Raylan looked down at the mugshot of his first love – at the defiant, angry look in his eyes, at the prison tats and the swastika on his arm. He let out a breath. “Other than the fact he’s a racist asshole? He lost some hair but that’s about it.”

If Raylan thought he was going to get a moment to breathe, he was severely mistaken. He woke up early in the motel he’d booked into and slid into the courthouse to get a look at Winona. She looked good. Divorce agreed with her. _Gary_ agreed with her. _Or maybe_ , a voice at the back of his head said, _maybe_ you _just didn’t agree with her_. Before Raylan could take a proper look at his self-esteem, doubts and inner transphobia his phone rang. It was Art, telling him to get his ass down to Tate’s Creek Road. There was a body.


	2. Chapter 2

When Raylan arrived at Tate’s Creek Road the place was already crawling with marshals. He pulled in and parked his car just behind where Art was talking on the phone. Raylan took a moment before getting out of the car. Once he opened the door that would be it, he would properly be a marshal in Kentucky. Art finished on the phone and rapped on Raylan’s windscreen.

“Are you going to sit there all day?”

Raylan unfolded his long limbs and got out, settling his hat on his head. “No I’m coming.”

“About damn time,” Art muttered under his breath.

Raylan jerked his head towards the SUV that had been cornered off. “What are we looking at here?”

Art set off towards the truck. “County Sheriff’s deputy found it just after dawn. Name’s Jared Hale.” He paused to let Raylan look in at the body slumped over the steering wheel, blood splattered over the windscreen. “Bureau has him listed as some kind of Aryan knight. Oklahoma drivers licence.”

Mind flashing back to the conversation they had yesterday, Raylan attempted nonchalant. “You got him connected to Boyd?”

Art looked rueful. “So far only tenuously. I talked to his sister and she said he came down to hook up with some Commandos.” The pair reached the table where evidence was laid out and bagged. At the front was a handgun which Art gestured to. “Most likely the murder weapon. It was fired recently.” Almost as if he knew what Raylan was going to say, Art shook his head. “It’s clean – the whole damn vehicle is. Except for this.” Raylan looked at the strap hanging off the pen in Art’s hand. “You know what this is? Me either. It’s the cap that attaches on the end of a rocket launcher.”

“No shit.”

“And last night we had a church bombing in Lexington, and the Feeb says that whoever did it used a rocket launcher.”

Raylan looked at Art, after fifteen years in law enforcement he didn’t believe in coincidences anymore.

Raylan followed Art down to what used to be a church but was now mostly a pile of rubble. They were met by two other marshals – a white man about ten years Raylan’s junior wearing a striped shirt and a Black woman around the same age with cornrows who looked like she meant business. Art introduced them as Tim Gutterson and Rachel Brooks. Tim had interviewed most of the witnesses already and found that two white men parked in a dark SUV. One got out with what they thought was a bazooka and said something that may have been “liars and hos”, “time to go” or “heidy heidy heidy ho”. Raylan made a quip about Cab Calloway that didn’t seem to go down well with him. Luckily, Rachel jumped in with her own info before anything more could be said.

“The pastor had it different. He heard the man say ‘Fire in the hole’.”

Raylan’s mind flashed back to the dozens of times he’d heard Boyd cry that same phrase down in the mines. He didn’t think he went pale, but he felt it. This was getting messy quickly.

From behind the marshals the pastor was making a fuss. Art looked at him thoughtfully. “Did the good pastor get a look at the shooter?”

Rachel raised an eyebrow. “He says no.”

“I bet if we put Crowder in a line-up and told him the shooter was there it would jog his memory.”

Once back at the office Tim asked if Raylan knew Boyd’s brother Bowman.

“Sort of. Star running back in high school. Boyd was always saying he had the goods to go pro.” Unbidden, memories of Boyd gushing about his younger brother’s talent – his face all lit up and a look of sheer joy on it as he looked at Raylan – filled Raylan’s mind. A bitter feeling crept up his chest. “I was never that sure.”

“You remember the girl he married? Ava?”

“If she’s the same one who lived down the street from me the yeah. She married to Bowman?”

“She was.” Tim finally looked at Raylan. “She ended the union last night with a thirty-ought-six. Plugged him right through the heart.” _That_ made Raylan double take. He found it hard to reconcile the image of the little girl who had played Barbies with him, with a murderess. “She admits to shooting him. Says she got tired of Bowman getting drunk and beating on her.”

“Did you talk to her?” Art asked.

Tim nodded. “I did. I told her that with Boyd’s reputation he was likely to come after her.

“What’d she say?”

“Said it was none of our business. Told her it was if he shoots her.”

Art picked up the file off the desk and squinted at it. “That the address?”

Tim nodded. “Yeah, but good luck in finding it. Tried to map it and got nothing.”

Raylan reached across and took the file from Art’s grasp. He gave it a look. Ava hadn’t moved far.

Art looked over his glasses at Raylan. “Guess some places haven’t been entered into the system, like North Korea and Raylan’s hometown.”

Raylan gave a gentle laugh to Art’s teasing. “I know where it is.”

“In that case I’m handing this over to you. Go and talk to Ava again. Impress upon her the severity of the situation.”

Raylan nodded. “Will do,” he said, picking up his hat.


	3. Chapter 3

During the drive to Harlan Raylan went through several brainstorms and breakdowns. What was going to happen when he saw Ava? Would she talk to him as he was? Would she reject him as a man? Would she even recognise him? Could he pretend to be someone else? No that would never work long term and it would cause too many awkward uncomfortable questions in the future. Fuck this was a nightmare. Why did Dan make him come back? He’d had a good thing going, the past twenty years, away from anyone who knew him before the age of 25. Now he was heading right back into it. Fuckity fuckity fuck. FIFTEEN years he’d been stealth. Fifteen. And now one fucking thing led to him being here. Raylan let out a harsh laugh. The irony of Ava being the first person he had to see in Harlan because of Boyd wasn’t lost on him. He’d gotten hormones and top surgery and fucking SRS to amend his birth cert and no one fucking knew until now. When it was all going blow up in his face because of one bastard who just wouldn’t fucking leave Miami when Raylan asked. Raylan hit the steering wheel a few times and let out a noise through his gritted teeth that could only be called a growl.

Just fuck.

Well there wasn’t anything he could do about it now. He was here. Outside Ava’s house. He was just going to have to walk in there and act like nothing was awry. Right. Easy as pie.

Raylan’s eyes were worried as he climbed the steps up to Ava’s porch. He could hear the radio playing through her open door. Raylan barely looked at the open green land or the shed across the way. He walked straight up to Ava’s door and knocked. That was it. Couldn’t be undone now. Raylan’s heart was hammering, and he could hear his blood rushing in his ears but he kept his body carefully relaxed. Ava couldn’t know. He looked in through the mesh on her door and he saw her. She was taking something out of the oven but as she placed it down, their eyes met.

“Oh my God. Raylan!”

She didn’t sound concerned or disgusted. She sounded…pleased?

“You remember me, huh?”

Ava opened the door, shaking her head. “I never forgot you.” Her eyes looked him up and down and Raylan had to fight the urge to cover his chest like he had used to. There was nothing there now except two faint scars and a heavily buried secret.

For a moment Raylan thought she was going to kiss him but instead he leant forward and pressed his lips to her cheek. It had been a long time. When he leant back, it seemed Ava had gathered her courage because she went straight back in and kissed him firmly. She didn’t pull far back though. Raylan didn’t know if she was going to kiss him again and he wasn’t sure if he wanted her to or not.

“I had a crush on you from the time I was twelve years old.” Raylan ducked his head, a little bit ashamed. “I knew you liked me but you didn’t want to show it.”

That was true enough. Raylan at fifteen had had enough on his plate without trying to figure in romance. Especially not when it would have meant everyone thinking he was a lesbian and all _that_ would have involved. It was easier to stay away.

“You were too young.” True but not the whole truth. A simpler lie.

Ava was still looking at him all flirty like. “I was sixteen when you left.” When Raylan didn’t react, Ava decided to take a different approach. “I heard you got married.” Raylan fiddled with his hat but couldn’t find any words. “Are you still?”

“Turned out to be a mistake.”

“You wanna talk about mistakes? I told Bowman I wanted a divorce. He goes ‘You file, you’ll never be seen again.’ He said I’d disappear from the face of the earth.” Ava didn’t seem upset though, she seemed delighted. She’s free now, Raylan reminded himself. She doesn’t have to worry about Bowman and his threats anymore. That’s why she’s acting like this. “You want a drink?”

God did he ever. This was so much more straight forward than he’d imagined. Raylan stepped through the front door and took his hat off.

“I’d love one.”


	4. Chapter 4

“I married Bowman a year out of high school ‘cause he was cute. He was sure of himself and he told me he’d never work in a goddamn coal mine.” Ava bustled around the kitchen, sure of herself. Raylan looked down at his fingers rubbing round the rim of his hat. A lot sure had changed. “He’d wear the blue and white of the University of Kentucky, then he’d get drafted by a pro team.” Ava sounded wry but not overly regretful.

Ava kept babbling as she got their drinks – about Bowman, about his abuse and the awful things he’d said to her. Raylan thought that maybe she was relieved to finally be able to say it all out loud without having to worry about repercussions. She certainly didn’t sound upset about any of it. Raylan understood that. You never let on how bad it is. If anyone asks and you tell them, then you brush it off like nothing. You’ve got to build a wall made of diamond around yourself so nothing can get in, not even well-meaning people and their sympathy.

Ava kept up the flirty act even when Raylan looked over at the bloody stain on Ava’s dining room floor as she talked about the knot on her head from hitting it off the stove. She left to get changed but turned at the door and said “Raylan,” and Raylan really hoped she wasn’t going to say anything about his transition. “The minute you walked in, I knew everything was gonna be alright.”

Well that was marginally better. He wasn’t aiming to be some white knight but right now he’d take it.

Things really weren’t going anything like he had expected. Ava hadn’t said anything about his transition, and even the kiss and admission of her crush, well that complicated things. Was _Ava_ queer? He hadn’t been out in Harlan, well not explicitly. He played baseball with the lads and was ‘one of the boys’ most of the time, but also everyone was very aware that he was female. So for Ava to say she’d had a crush on him back then meant she wasn’t completely straight. Right? Raylan’s brain hurt from all the thinking he’d done already that day. Ava’s voice from the other room broke his concentration.

“I was right about you.”

“About what?”

Ava’s voice was light, teasing.

“Having a crush on you. You’re a good kisser.”

“I was thinking we’d have to stop doing that.” Raylan wandered into the hallway, drink in hand. “This isn’t a social call.”

Ava appeared at her bedroom door clad only in a towel. “Well you tell all me about your business when I come out of the shower okay?” She left the door open when she stepped away. Raylan took a large mouthful of his drink and shook his head. This woman honestly. She was getting under his skin and she knew it.

Since arriving back in Harlan Raylan could feel all the old emotions resurfacing – the terror, the rage, the hopelessness, but also the love he’d felt here. He had hated Harlan when he was a teen but returning now, twenty years later, he felt nostalgic about parts of it. The scenery. His aunt Helen. Boyd. Even Ava. His mother. Raylan hadn’t returned for Frances’ funeral and it was only hitting him now just how much he wished he had. She would never know the man her son became.

Raylan was startled out of his thoughts by a man crashing through Ava’s front door. He was about five inches shorter than Raylan and had a necklace of ‘gator teeth. His short hair stuck up like he’d put his finger in the socket and he had Nazi tattoos visible on the skin not covered by his wifebeater.

“Who in the hell are you?” the man asked. “The undertaker?”

Raylan just looked back at him. “I might be undertaking a situation here.”

The man started peering around and Raylan’s uncomfortable feeling about this situation wasn’t getting any better.

“You buy that necklace or poach the ‘gator and yank the teeth out?”

The man looked straight at Raylan. “I shot her and ate her tail.”

“That would put you in Florida, around Lake Okeechobee.” Raylan took another sip of his drink. The ice cubes were melting.

The man jerked his head at that. “Belle Glade. Who are you?”

Now this was something Raylan could handle in his sleep. No feelings, no old memories just an asshole who thought he was smarter than he really was. He pulled out his badge and opened it with one hand.

“Raylan Givens. I’m a Deputy United States Marshal. You mind telling me who you are?” The man just stared at Raylan, looking slightly confused by the question. Or at least Raylan thought it was the question. He hoped the man hadn’t clocked him. _Don’t be stupid_ , Raylan thought. _No one has clocked you in years. Being back in Kentucky is just making you paranoid_. “What’s the matter?” he said instead. “You know your name, don’t you?” The man seemed to think about it for a minute, glancing upstairs to where Ava was. That apparently helped him come to a decision.

“I’m Dewey. Dewey Crowe.”

Ah Crowe. Raylan was familiar with the Crowes. He’d had dealings with them back in Florida.

“I sent a boy to Starke from Belle Glade, fellow by the name of Dale Crowe Jr.”

Dewey blinked and shuffled his feet. “He’s my kin.”

Well that explained a lot. “What are you doing here, Mr Crowe?”

“I come to take Ava someplace.” Dewey took a step towards the stairs and shouted them. “Ava!”

“Ah ah.” Raylan put his hand out to stop him. “You don’t walk into a person’s house unless you’re invited. What you better do is go on outside and knock on the door. If Ava wants to see you, I’ll let you in. If she don’t, you’ll be on your way.”

Dewey seemed to think about this for a minute. He went pretty still but Raylan could see the cogs in his mind moving.

“All right,” he said. “I’m gonna go out. And then I’m comin’ back in.” Dewey seemed to think that he’d made some kind of point because he gave Raylan a look before going out the door.

Raylan downed the rest of his glass and shook off his jacket. Why did people always do this? He went down the porch steps just in time to meet Dewey pointing a scatter gun at him. Raylan kept walking.

“Mr Crowe. You better hold on there a sec while I explain something to you.” Dewey raised the gun higher, defiantly. “I want you to understand, I don’t pull my sidearm unless I’m gonna shoot to kill. That’s its purpose, huh? To kill? So that’s how I use it.” Dewey’s jaw clenched but otherwise he didn’t move. “I want you to think about that before you act and it’s too late.”

“Jesus Christ, I got a scattergun pointed right at you!”

Raylan nodded slowly. He loved the stupid ones. They were so predictable. “Can you rack in a load before I put a hole through you?” Dewey’s arm wavered and Raylan could see his conviction was gone. Not breaking eye contact, he walked straight up to Dewey and pulled the gun from his hands, keeping a firm grip on Dewey’s arm as he dragged him to Dewey’s car. “Where’d you want to take Ava?”

“Man, I don’t understand you,” Dewey said. Raylan didn’t bother answering.

“Boyd want to see her?”

“It’s none of your business.”

Raylan let go of Dewey then so he could open the driver’s door of Dewey’s car. “You know Boyd and I were buddies? We dug coal and drunk beer together.” Raylan was banking on Dewey having kin in Florida to mean that he wouldn’t be familiar with the real history between the two men. “In fact, you see him, you tell him I’m in Harlan, all right?” Raylan shoved Dewey into his car and he went silently, looking a bit scared even. Raylan popped the bullets out of Dewey’s gun before handing it back to him. He grabbed Dewey by the back of the neck. Dewey jumped. “Hey, if I were you, I’d give up this Nazi bullshit. Stick to poaching ‘gators, it’s safer.”

Somewhere in that advice Dewey got his courage back.

“Next time I see you, I’m gonna-“

He didn’t get a chance to finish that threat before Raylan – still holding him by the scruff of the neck – banged his head off the steering wheel.

“Tell Boyd his old buddy wants to see him. Raylan Givens.”

With that, Raylan let go of him and walked back to the house, leaving Dewey staring after him in shock, blood bubbling out of his mouth. 


	5. Chapter 5

After Dewey left Raylan wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself. It felt rude to wander around Ava’s house when she wasn’t there, and he didn’t want to look at the stain on the floor that was all that remained of Bowman. There was a photo album on the dresser though. Raylan pulled it out and sat himself on her couch, set his glass down on the table and his hat next to him. The photo album was big and Raylan flipped it open carefully. Inside were old pictures – of Ava when she was a girl and her parents. Raylan had been expecting wedding photos or carefully curated false smiles at a summer barbecue. He glanced through them anyway and came to a halt with a slight gasp. _He_ was in this album.

Young him, sat on Ava’s momma’s porch with a Barbie in one hand and a brush in the other. He was playing with Ava who held a partially dressed doll and looking intently at it. In the next photo she was looking up at the camera, startled, while Raylan still seemed somewhat bored. He looked about eight or nine and Ava about six. They’d played together a lot until he started middle school. Ava had tried to hang round him still but Raylan had had enough.

Raylan flicked through the rest of the book but didn’t really show up other than in the background of groups. It was odd to see himself looking so young – and doubly so since he was mostly with other lads his age. He might have done a decent job of passing as male as a teen but until he started testosterone, he didn’t look his age. Raylan focused in on one picture of him and others from his school. Boyd was among them and had his arm slung around Raylan’s shoulder. Raylan had his hair cut short and was wearing a shirt over a wifebeater like most of the guys, but even with his shoulders hunched you could tell there were breasts hidden under there. Raylan remembered the time when he would wear two Jogbras to try and flatten his chest. Not a fun time.

Ava came in then, still drying her hair with a towel. Raylan fought the impulse of slamming the photo album shut – he wasn’t doing anything wrong.

“Who was that?” she asked.

“Dewey Crowe.”

“The one with ‘Heil Hitler’ on his neck?”

Raylan looked up slowly as he hummed agreement. Keep it nice and natural, now. Don’t go giving her any ideas.

“He was one of Bowman’s buddies.”

Perfect chance to bring up the actual reason why Raylan was here. He’s spent far too long at Ava’s house as it was.

“You haven’t seen Boyd? I mean since?”

Ava picked up her drink off the dresser and wandered across the room. Raylan lifted up his hat from the sofa as Ava sat down.

“No.” She stretched out her bare legs. “But he’ll be after me, I know. He’s _been_ after me.” Ava took a mouthful of her drink.

Raylan turned to face her and pitched his voice low, comforting. “That’s why we want to keep an eye on you. You know I’m with the Marshal service?”

Ava nodded. “I believe your mother told me, before she passed.” She leaned in and said, in a very off-hand way that Raylan knew must be anything but, “You been to see your father?” Raylan’s face went through an entire journey at that, and he thinks he shook his head but quite honestly he wasn’t not sure if he did or not. “Are you looking for…Boyd?”

Ah! Familiar territory.

“We are. But we have to catch him in the act.” Ava made a motion like she knew what he meant but Raylan carried on anyway. “Robbing a bank, blowing up a church,” – Raylan paused a moment and looked Ava in the eye – “making an attempt on your life.”

“Mine?” Ava looked thoroughly perplexed at that.

“You said yourself he’ll be coming after you.”

Ava seemed like she couldn’t believe what Raylan had said and then finally laughed. “Raylan,” she said. “Boyd don’t want to shoot me. He wants to…go to bed with me.” She laughed again and leant in to Raylan, flirty nature back. “You want me to help you catch him?”

Raylan rubbed a hand over his face. This was not going how anyone had predicted. Wow. “Maybe you could just get him to talk to me?”

Ava nodded, a smile playing at the edge of her mouth. “I could do that.”

“You know where he is?”

“I do.”

Jesus this was hard. “And do you want to tell me?”

Ava tossed her hair back and smiled at him. She was enjoying this teasing. “What do I get if I do?”

Raylan knew what she wanted. Ava knew that he knew what she wanted. He shouldn’t though. He was working and she’d just killed a man. But oh did he want to do that too. Well a kiss couldn’t hurt, Raylan thought, leaning forward to meet Ava who was already sat quite close to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise Raylan and Boyd will meet in the next chapter okay! This one just got away with me.
> 
> You do not want to know how many random things I googled during writing this.  
> Did you know that sports bras originated in the late 1970s from a runner who wanted to stop her breasts from hurting when she ran and that the very early design of the 'Jogbra' came from her friend Lisa Lindahl's husband putting a jockstrap across his chest? And that the population of Harlan has halved since 1970?  
> For a story set in modern day I feel like I'm doing a lot of research about what it must have been like as a trans man thirty years ago. I'm sat here in 2021 in my lovely tidy and comfortable gc2b binder but that wouldn't have been an option for Raylan when he was my age. He would most likely have used cloth strips or bandages, if not layering jogbras. I used to layer sports bras and they worked fine flattening my chest but they were hot as hell and VERY sweaty. Raylan would not have been comfortable at all. Not to mention that transition information for trans masc people came much later than transition options for trans fem people. Buck Angel was one of the early trans men to undergo HRT and that was in 1990!


	6. Chapter 6

Raylan didn’t sleep with Ava, not that day. They kissed and he might have been a little free with his hands, but their clothes stayed on. Ava told him where to go anyway. Raylan knew she would. Boyd had a church up in the hills, she said, where he lived with a bunch of other rednecks and neo-Nazis. Thinking about that hurt Raylan’s head a little. He found it hard to reconcile the man who had accepted him as trans so easily with the man in the file who dealt in hate.

Raylan pulled his car in at the bottom of the hill. He took a moment before getting out. The church was a little run down but other than that it looked just like any other church – whitewashed, tall stained-glass windows, a big cross. Hard to believe it hid nothing but hate and loathing inside its walls. Raylan got out of the car and started walking up to the front door.

Boyd flung the door open and came out, arms held wide and a grin on his face. A man looking a lot less happy followed him and lingered in the doorway.

“Look at you!” Boyd cried. “A suit, a necktie.” He nodded at Raylan. “Looking good. Looking like a lawman!”

Boyd didn’t look that different – a little less hair, a few more lines on his face – but the smile was the same. He was wearing a black t-shirt that showed off barbed wire tattoos around his forearms and miner’s boots. Raylan didn’t think they were the ones he’d had when they last met but he couldn’t be sure. The most noticeable thing though was the large confederate flag belt-buckle that Boyd was sporting around his skinny hips. It made Raylan’s stomach churn. Or was that just nerves?

Boyd didn’t seem concerned to see Raylan – if anything he seemed delighted. He put out a hand and Raylan grasped it, letting Boyd pull him into an embrace. He patted Boyd’s back, keeping their hug nice and manly even though Raylan’s heart was racing so fast he was surprised it didn’t gallop right out of his chest. He hoped Boyd couldn’t tell. Boyd pulled back slower than was strictly proper and looked Raylan right in the eye. Raylan was half expecting Boyd to kiss him. He didn’t.

“Now see, this is how you wear a hat!” Boyd indicated to Raylan then turned to the lackey lurking in the doorway. “Casual, not down on your goddamn ears!”

The lackey nodded, but his jaw was tight and his hands were buried in his pockets. Raylan didn’t think the lackey liked him much. Boyd had straightened up now but he was still standing too close for comfort.

“I heard you called on Ava? My boy Dewey said he had to run you off.”

Despite himself, Raylan smiled. That boy honestly. Run Raylan off? Likely story. “You believe that?”

Boyd leaned in a bit, eyes locked on Raylan’s. God there was so much history in those brown eyes. “Not if you say it ain’t so.”

“Shit I’ll take care of him.”

Boyd looked up at the lackey then, briefly, before bringing his gaze back to Raylan’s face. “Devil, get us a jar and two glasses. This party’s just for Raylan and me.”

Raylan felt like an ice cube had been placed down his back. That phrase sounded far more intimate than two men proper should share. There was no way Boyd would have told his men that he enjoyed a good dicking from time to time, but still. You couldn’t be too careful, especially now that he was back in Harlan. It made Raylan’s palms sweat.

Devil was hovering.

“Go on!” Boyd told him. Devil stared at the pair for a moment longer then turned and entered the dark confines of the church. Boyd looked back to Raylan, his face soft. “He just got his release so he’s feelin’ a little itchy.”

“I can tell.” Raylan felt himself falling back into Boyd’s banter like it had been yesterday. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing. Boyd laughed, dimples showing, and guided Raylan round to the steps with a hand on his shoulder. It felt hot through Raylan’s jacket.

Inside, Boyd poured clear moonshine into a mismatched pair of glasses. He caught Raylan’s eye.

“Old times,” he said, and Raylan felt his heart stutter in his chest. What did Boyd mean by _that_? They clinked glasses and Boyd kept eye contact as Raylan tipped the glass back and swallowed in one go. God that stuff burned. He coughed a bit and Boyd laughed openly, flashing his big, white teeth.

“You been gone too long.”

“God damn.” Raylan blinked a few more times. He’d forgotten how strong that was. Boyd still sounded amused. He popped the lid back on the jar and put it in the fridge.

“So what was life like in Florida?”

Raylan grimaced. “Just as advertised – sunny and hot.”

“You know, I just don’t think I could take me a place so flat.”

Boyd was just acting so normal, as if Raylan frequented his church. As if he was used to seeing Raylan as a man, and not a little girl with short hair playing make believe. As if Raylan hadn’t dumped him by leaving the state without a word.

“What game are you playing, Boyd?”

Boyd turned, surprised. “What do you mean?”

Raylan threw his arms out in frustration. “This. Acting like none of it happened and I see you every day. The white supremacist bullshit. All of it.”

“Now, Raylan, I’ll have you know none of this is bullshit.”

Raylan wanted to punch Boyd right in his smarmy mouth. “It is. This isn’t who you are.”

“Well now, you’ve been gone quite a while, friend. Things have changed round here.”

Raylan smiled at that, mean.

“They know you’re a fag?” he asked.

Boyd inclined his head. “They do not. And I’d like that to stay between us if you don’t mind, Raylan. I believe you would wish me to extend the same courtesy to you in regards to your,” he gestured at Raylan’s body, “physicality.”

Raylan took a step towards Boyd. “You breathe a word about that,” he threatened, “and I will stop at nothing to take you down.”

Boyd met Raylan’s eyes, face strangely honest for someone who had been threatening Raylan mere seconds ago. “I had no intention of saying anything, my friend, you can trust me on that. You’re not the only one with something to lose should it come out.”

Raylan laughed, low and harsh. “Of course you’re just looking out for yourself. Glad to see some things never change.”

“I can assure you that I am thinking only of your wellbeing.” Boyd shrugged. “And, well, if things are better for me with people not knowing? What can I say?”

Raylan didn’t know what to say to that, to say to Boyd. Fucking Boyd. He never did what you expected him to. Raylan remembered the night he’d come out to Boyd. It hadn’t been planned. They’d been drinking and Boyd had dragged him off to some cabin his daddy owned. He’d been angling for a fuck, Raylan thought, but that didn’t end up happening. Instead, Boyd got an armful of crying boy and a sexuality crisis.

_Raylan leant his head back against the wall. Everything felt a bit fuzzy. Boyd turned to face him and pressed a kiss to his cheek, his eyebrow, the edge of his mouth; anywhere he could reach._

_“C’mon, baby, lets-“_

_“I’m not a girl, Boyd.”_

_That made Boyd stop. He sat back on his heels so he could look at Raylan’s face. He didn’t look disgusted or freaked out or horrified or any of the other things Raylan had expected. He just looked a bit confused._

_“What d’ya mean?”_

_Raylan closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to look at Boyd’s face changing._

_“Just that. I ain’t a girl. I’m just as much of a man as you are.”_

_Boyd reached one hand out and cupped Raylan’s jaw._

_“Look at me, baby.” Raylan let his eyes open and take in Boyd. His brown eyes were honest. “I’m not going to pretend I understand but I don’t care, okay? I didn’t fall in love with you because you were a girl. I fell for you because of who you are and nothing else matters. I’ll love you as long as you’re you. You’re mine and nothing anyone says is gonna change that.”_

_“You don’t mean that, Boyd. You can’t.”_

_“I do. I swear on my momma’s grave.”_

_Raylan let out a sound that may have been a muffled sob and pressed his face into Boyd’s chest. One hand clutched at the material of Boyd’s shirt, the other had a hold of his arm far too tightly but Boyd didn’t say anything. He just held Raylan. He would hold him for as long as he needed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is currently 1:45am and I have been at this for nearly two and a half hours and I enjoyed every minute of it.   
> This is probably THE most influential chapter of the whole story, Boyd and Raylan meeting for the first time in twenty years. Raylan wants to trust Boyd but can he? The Boyd he meets is exactly the same and nothing at all like the Boyd Raylan left in Harlan as a teenager.   
> The flashback at the end I have had written for weeks and weeks, back before I even finished chapter 2, but I didn't know where I was going to need it. I really love it though.  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I do!


	7. Chapter 7

“You seen your daddy yet?”

Raylan let out a laugh devoid of any humour. “No. Not yet. Thankfully.”

Boyd walked past Raylan, hands in his pockets, casual as anything. “Boy, he was a wild man back in the day wasn’t he? What was that scam he had going back in the early nineties? Stealing mining machinery, selling it to the Colombians, getting paid in cocaine? You remember that?” Boyd seemed so relaxed, so at ease, sprawling out on the pews across the room. Guess they were acting like nothing Raylan had just said had happened. Fine. He could deal with that. Easier to arrest Boyd that way, if he wasn’t worrying about him. Oh who was he kidding? He had never stopped caring about Boyd Crowder.

Raylan sauntered across the room and slid into the pew in front of Boyd.

“Guess I was gone by then.” There was a beat then “How’s _your_ daddy?”

Boyd grinned, but he didn’t look overly amused either. “I suspect you know how my daddy is.” Raylan nodded. He did. “Yeah all those days, good and bad, they all long gone now. Everything’s changed.”

Raylan got a feeling Boyd wasn’t just talking about the scams his father had pulled off. It felt more personal than that.

“Not everything,” Raylan said quietly. He hadn’t planned to say it – it just came out. Boyd looked at him, his face a little softer than it had been a moment ago.

“No?”

“This still feels the same.” Raylan gestured between them.

“Yeah?” Boyd leant forward so that Raylan could feel his breath on his ear.

Raylan swallowed. “Yeah.”

He turned his head a bit so he could look at Boyd. Boyd’s eyes were heavy on his own. His heart was a jackhammer in his chest and his breath was coming fast, but when hadn’t it been today? Boyd licked his lips – a tiny, almost imperceptible, motion but every cell in Raylan’s body was tuned in to Boyd and his eyes flicked down. He had never felt so much like his teenage self.

Boyd evidently reached the end of his patience before Raylan because he let out a “Oh God just come here, boy!” and pulled Raylan towards him by his shirt collar. His mouth fitted against Raylan’s like it hadn’t been twenty years since the last time. Raylan twisted in his seat to face Boyd properly, knocking his hat off in the process, and wrapped his hands around Boyd’s jaw. He still smelled the same.

Fuck what _was_ he doing? Kissing Boyd in his Nazi church? That was _not_ a good idea, not in anyone’s book.

Raylan wrenched himself away – Boyd’s hands still gripping Raylan’s shirt and Raylan’s fingers still splayed across the back of Boyd’s head.

“We can’t do this,” Raylan said. His voice came out steady enough, but you’d be able to hear the slight tremble if you knew him well enough, which Boyd did.

“Why not?”

Raylan sat upright, tugging his shirt from Boyd’s hands. He flattened his hair and picked back up his hat.

“Why not?” Boyd repeated. “You’re still Raylan ain’t ya?”

“I am a U.S. Marshal,” Raylan said, as if he were reading it off a manual, “I can’t be consorting with criminals.”

“Oh it’s like that is it?”

Raylan hardened his jaw. “It is.”

Boyd crossed his arms behind his head and leant back. “Alright then.”

Raylan brushed invisible dirt off his hat. He didn’t want to go, not really. To be honest what he really wanted to do was kiss Boyd some more, lose some of their clothing and take him right there on the floor of his Nazi church so that every time Boyd entered, he couldn’t help but to think of what they’d done there. Raylan wanted to stake his claim and make all of Boyd’s followers know that Boyd was his. That he was as queer as a three-dollar bill and always had been. That Boyd was full of bullshit and they’d been falling for Boyd’s silver tongue poppycock for years. He wanted them to know that Raylan was the only one who could see through Boyd.

But Raylan was a Marshal, and he had a job to do.

“The reason I’m here,” he said, standing up and fixing his hat firming on his head, “we’re having a little line-up tomorrow at the courthouse.”

Boyd grinned, wide, obnoxious. “Why, what did I do now, Deputy Marshal Raylan Givens?”

“Well, we got a witness, saw a man fire a bazooka into a church. I know all about your friend Devil and his record selling dope. And I’m willing to bet that you blew up that church in Lexington – not because it was Black, but because it was a dope store. Ten to one says you got paid to do it by some other dope dealer around who didn’t like the idea of that preacher getting a free pass from the police. Win-win for you, wasn’t it, Boyd? Not only did you get to blow something to smithereens but you got money. Now I’d appreciate it if you’d be in that line-up tomorrow.”

“Oh I bet you would.”

Raylan wasn’t in the mood for Boyd’s teasing. “You either show up or we’ll come get you.”

Boyd let him walk away, half-way to the door before calling him back.

“Hey, Raylan, let me ask you a question?”

 _Oh god, what now?_ Raylan thought. It could be literally anything after that conversation they had.

“Would you shoot me if you got the chance?”

Raylan looked at Boyd – looked at his face, weathered with age but the face of his oldest friend and first confidant, nonetheless. It was the face of someone Raylan had trusted with the most intimate parts of himself and still more. Raylan had loved Boyd before he left, he couldn’t deny that. What Boyd was asking was unthinkable. Away, out of Kentucky, Raylan had thought of Boyd often and hoped that he’d gotten out too, that he was happy. But now? Raylan wasn’t so sure. Not in a million years had he expected to come back and find Boyd like this. He was hurt by it. Truth was, Raylan had a lot of conflicting feelings about Boyd. He couldn’t say any of that though.

“You make me pull, I’ll put you down.”

Boyd kept eye contact for a moment then nodded slightly, a sad sort of smile at the edge of his lips.

Raylan picked up his jacket and walked out the door. He didn’t look back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my 'canon Justified but if Raylan was trans' story seems to be heading much closer to 'Raylan/Boyd romance following the canon storyline oh and Raylan is also trans'....whoops  
> Not much to say about this chapter, folks, except that I am very aroace and cannot write kissing so sorry 'bout that.  
> (And poppycock is such a FUN word!)
> 
> I also want to say thank you to everyone who is reading and commenting on this silly little story of mine. I really appreciate it! I hope you enjoy this chapter and have a lovely (what is left of) Monday!


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